


Stopping time

by Blanquette



Series: Stopping time [1]
Category: Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel
Genre: Alternate Universe, Drabble, Light Angst, M/M, Magical Realism, Terminal Illnesses
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-31
Updated: 2015-05-31
Packaged: 2018-04-02 04:58:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 387
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4046926
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blanquette/pseuds/Blanquette
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bucky is sick and Steve is not ready.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stopping time

**Author's Note:**

> A small drabble I did some time ago. I might turn it into something bigger, I don't know yet. I kinda liked the idea of the clocks.

-They told me you could stop time.  
-No. I just make clocks.

The shop was small, cluttered with all kind of objects, none of which seemed to be on sale. And there were the clocks hanging on the walls, hundreds of clocks of all sizes, their steady tick-tocks invading all the corners of the room. The owner stood behind a small dusty counter at the far-end, Steve had almost passed him without noticing.

-But that's what they do, right? That's what I was told.  
-By whom?  
-I don't know anymore.

The man had looked at him without saying anything and Steve had felt so out of depth, nervously threading the hem of his shirt between his fingers. The tick-tocks were invading his brain and he couldn't find his words anymore. The owner had shifted slightly behind the counter, resting his face on a wrinkly hand, and had smiled up at him. Steve had settled a bit, then, his eyes resting on the small statue of a chimera next to the old man's elbow. 

-I need to stop everything for a while. It's important.  
-It won't prevent them to go, you know.  
-I know. I just need a bit more time.

When he had started to speak, his own voice had seemed so far away, as if it was someone else's. The man was listening without pause, and everything felt so surreal. The shop, the man, the clocks, everything seemed to exist on another plan than the rest of the world.

-Please?

 

The sick room was perfectly quiet. The curtains were slightly drawn on the small window left ajar and the cleaning had just been done, the familiar smell of the products still lingering in the air. Steve sat down on the creaky metal chair and gently swept the brown hair from the patient's face, who didn't open his eyes and didn't answer to the slight pressure on his hand.

-I brought you a clock today. I know that for you time already stopped, but I'm not ready to let you go yet. I need more time. We never did have enough.

Steve put down the little wooden clock on the table near the bed and winded it up slowly. As the tick-tocks filled the room, the wind stopped blowing through the window of the perfect sick room.


End file.
